


Forbidden Fruit

by BiancaCastafarina



Category: Tintin - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, dub-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-14
Updated: 2012-03-27
Packaged: 2017-10-31 04:49:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/340084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BiancaCastafarina/pseuds/BiancaCastafarina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One night Tintin gets really drunk and the Captain tries to put him to bed and absolutely nothing more. But Tintin is extremely clingy and hard to resist... (Written for the Tintin kinkmeme. Warning: dub-con)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It is the nature of young people to engage in risky behaviour. Testing their limits, exploring new things, finding out how far they can go.  
  
Haddock gathers up a completely drunk Tintin in his arms. Tintin is rather heavy for one so lean but still easy to carry for a strong man like Haddock who is used to the toil at sea. In the name of science, the lad has insisted, he needed to find out how much alcohol he could handle, being confident that he could easily drink as much as Haddock or any other man twice his size. Tintin has also insisted he would conduct his drinking experiment here at home at Marlinspike Hall because it was a safe environment where he would not have to be afraid of anything, no matter how drunk he got.   
They have just finished played that drinking game in front of the TV here at home, watching an awful movie, and Tintin has consumed both wine and whisky, declaring a preference for the former.   
  
Haddock can understand the curiosity about alcohol – after all, it's just another quest for an adventure – but he still does not like it. Losing control is so unlike Tintin.  
  
And if Tintin loses control it means that he, Archibald Haddock, will have to up the ante of his own control; he needs to be extra strong for him now – he needs to protect him, to guard him, to make sure he gets to bed safely and does not stumble over the broken step.   
  
Why does he even _think_ of taking advantage of Tintin at such a moment? Why does he still _want_ Tintin after all those years of successfully oppressing his desires, of talking away his indecent infatuations that still sometimes haunt him in his dreams? The Captain almost feels himself getting angry – angry at himself for being so weak; even angry at Tintin for being so darned tempting, although he knows how irrational it is. Tintin would _never_ tempt him, never test his patience!  
  
Tintin is young and innocent.  
  
An angel.  
  
„Archie!“ He giggles breathlessly, waving his arms. „I'm flying! Look, I can fly! Ha ha ha! No, of course I know you're carrying me...“ He squirms weakly in Haddock's arms, hiccuping, protesting. „I'm not _that_ drunk yet. Put me back down.“   
  
„As you wish, landlubber.“ Haddock carefully lets Tintin glide out of his bridal carry, not entirely convinced the young man can indeed walk on his own two legs. He is acutely aware of the warmth of Tintin's body through the blue sweater and plus fours; the toned muscles of Tintin's shoulders and torso, and as he leans down to set Tintin securely onto the floor, he catches a whiff of whisky on the boy's breath.   
  
The whisky always does things to him.   
  
Of course it does, but don't lie to yourself, Archie, that low voice in the back of his head whispers, right now it's _Tintin_ , not the whisky, who's doing things to you. He always has.  
  
„Can you walk upstairs?“ he asks, one arm still around Tintin.   
  
The reply is a slurred „Mh-hm“. Tintin steps on the stairs, and stumbles. Haddock barely manages to catch him. „Blistering barnacles“, he mutters, trying to manhandle Tintin into an upright position, „you clearly can't. That's gonna be one hell of an hangover tomorrow, lad!“  
  
Tintin leans back in Haddock's arms, smiling at him with lips stained raspberry pink from the red wine, heavy-lidded eyes glassy with intoxication. „Ofcoursecap'n“, he says and giggles again, „as you say. Anything you say.“  
  
For a moment the Captain is not sure what to do next – he's holding a half-standing Tintin in his arms, leaning over him so that Tintin's face is just under his own, cheeks flushed as pink as those soft-looking lips, luscious like a forbidden fruit. From that angle he even sees all of Tintin's neck, tender and fair skin all the way to the clavicle, barely covered by the messily upturned collar of his shirt.   
  
With a grunt he again sweeps up Tintin in his arms, carrying the weakly protesting lad all the way upstairs to his bedroom.   
  
If this is a test devised by God, then so be it! Gently placing Tintin on the bed on his back, Haddock feels he has passed one half of the test. He would demonstrate his strength to God and himself by making sure Tintin was safe and sound.  
  
It is a hard test. Tintin laughs, giddily and brightly, grabbing a handful of the Captain's pullover. „Cap'n“, he slurs, „Cap'n, stay... hic! let's watch the movie... the movie again. It was grand.“  
  
„Thundering typhoons!“ Haddock tries to free himself from Tintin's grip; telling himself it's impossible because the lad is so strong, but actually he knows he doesn't want to be free right now, he _wants_ Tintin to hold onto him, to pull him down onto the bed. „You'll be the death of me“, he growls and he means it.  
  
He will rather die than allowing his filthy desires to take over! Since meeting Tintin years ago he's evolved from a hopeless drunkard into someone strong with a purpose. This must never be undone.   
  
„...let'swatchthemoviecap'n“, Tintin replies, smiling, tugging at Haddock's arm. „C'mon cap'n, please!“   
  
„You are drunk!“ Haddock says firmly. „Let go! You need to sleep now.“ He peels Tintin's hand off his arm, and gently pushes the young man back onto the bed.  
  
 _You have no idea, Tintin. No idea what you are doing to me._  
  
Tintin pouts, making an attempt at a mock angry stare, but does not manage to keep his gaze focused on Haddock. He hiccups, exhales, and begins to fumble unsteadily with his sweater. „Pajama“, he mumbles, „I can't sle- hic! - sleep like that, I need my pajama! Blisteringbarnaclescap'n!“ Again, a girlish giggle.  
  
„All right, all right!“ Hoping that his annoyed tone distracts from the tremendous effort Haddock now makes, an effort to _pass_ the test, he helps Tintin to take off the pullover, then unbutton's the lad's shirt. „We'll get you into your pajama, all right.“  
  
The Captain's hands are trembling as he opens Tintin's shirt. It is like unwrapping a present, albeit a forbidden one not meant for him. It is the first time he sees so much of Tintin's naked body – in the past he has always looked away, always averted his eyes whenever scarce accommodations have forced them to undress in the same room – and he stares, unable to take his gaze off Tintin's chest, all tender, pale skin and two light pink nipples. Carefully he brushes the shirt further from Tintin's shoulders, and is amazed when he finds several tiny freckles scattered there.  
  
Before he is fully aware of what he is doing, Haddock's hands are on Tintin's body, and the skin feels velvety and hot to his touch. He feels the lad's heartbeat; lets two calloused thumbs run over Tintin's nipples. Tintin winces and gives a keening moan at the sudden stimulation, and Haddock is fascinated how sensitive they are, those small pink buds that instantly harden.  
  
Archie, for Heaven's sake, what are you doing?  
  
If Tintin is like whisky, then Haddock has had just one sip. One sip is perfectly fine, isn't it?  
  
 _You fool!_  
  
No use lying to himself. An alcoholic never stops at just one sip.  
  
It is in this instant that he realizes he has failed the test. He leans down and conquers Tintin's mouth with his own; dry, thirsty lips meeting soft, sated ones; and Tintin's mouth feels oh so wet and warm. Haddock can taste both the wine and the whisky.   
  
He has failed miserably. He is a wretched loser! _Archie, you are a hopeless case, you will never change!_  
  
Nothing matters any more. He kisses Tintin hard and hungrily, pushing one knee between the boy's thighs and pressing his aching hardness against Tintin.  
  
The lad's tongue responds to his own, kissing him back, and Tintin is squirming under him, wincing and gasping when he feels Haddock's hands under his body, roughly squeezing his backside.  
  
 _You have failed_. The anger rushes through Haddock, anger and disappointment at himself for being hopeless and weak. He pulls away from Tintin's mouth abruptly, only to press his lips to the boy's neck, to his clavicle and shoulders, greedily sucking, nibbling, biting, inhaling all of his scent. _Nothing matters any more._ Somewhere in the distance he hears Tintin's voice, whimpering, and he feels the body underneath him arching against his.  
  
And he realizes that it is not Tintin's body but Tintin's hands that he feels; two rather small hands on his chest, weakly pushing.  
  
Trying to push him away.


	2. Chapter 2

He pauses, looking down at Tintin who is breathing heavily, his head turned sideways, _away_ from him, and Haddock can see the mark he has left on Tintin's neck, a reddish spot marring the even, pale skin.

The realization of what he is doing hits him with the force of a hundred cannonballs. Dear God, Haddock mumbles silently, stumbling back, hastily retreating from the bed.

What has he done? What in the name of all that is good and holy – how could he – why is he-?

„No“, he exclaims, staggering backwards to the door. From the hallway he hears the disturbed and confused yelping of little Snowy; and he runs out of the room, straight into the bathroom. Unable to look into the mirror because he knows he'd only see the aspect of a monster, he splashes cold water into his face, and stares at the droplets disappearing down the drain. Trying to breathe normally, he leans forward, supporting himself with his hands on the edge of the sink.

There is no excuse, no explanation, much less an absolution. He is the worst of sinners. One who can never be forgiven.

He is beyond salvation.

Captain Haddock sits down on the bathroom floor, leaning against the wall, feeling cold, hard tiles through his clothes. But their iciness is nothing compared to the chilly despair creeping into his core.

 .

.

.

Tintin awakes; his head is heavy as though filled with rocks, and it feels as dull as one, too. There is a strange taste in his mouth and his tongue feels peculiarly fuzzy.

Water. He needs water.

Groaning, he sits up on the bed, rubbing his tired eyes. Fragments of the past night rise in his recent memory. He has drunk a lot, all right, and now he knows what a hangover feels like. Mission accomplished, he thinks wryly. But why is he still wearing his plus fours while his blue sweater is gone, and is shirt is open? He must have been really sloshed when he was unable to finish undressing. His pajama lies on the night-table near the bed, neatly folded and unused.

_Water._

He shuffles to his feet, trying to ignore the dull tolling of a hundred brazen bells inside his skull. How much did he drink last night? It must have been a lot, considering how disturbing his dream has been. A nightmare, actually. He remembers dreaming of Father Jacques, the priest-teacher at the Saint-Maurice Boys' Orphanage in Tournai, sexually molesting him; and this is especially creepy because the real Father Jacques has never done such a thing.

Tintin sighs and shakes his head, opening the bathroom door.

He finds Captain Haddock curled up on the small bathroom rug, still in his everyday clothes, and his first reaction is to panic. Then he realizes that maybe the Captain has drunk too much as well, and not even made it to the bed. He kneels down, gently shaking him. „Captain! Wake up! Come on, wake up! You all right?“

He cannot hide the concern in his voice, the worry about his best and closest friend, and is so glad when Haddock finally awakens, looking up at Tintin with a tired, unfocused gaze, then his eyes widen and he mutters, „Tintin?“

„ _Oui, mon capitaine, c'est moi_... Say, what are you doing here, sleeping on the floor? I can't recall seeing you drink _that_ much.“

Haddock sits up, ruffling his messy hair, then he looks at Tintin, bewildered. „Um, well... I...“ He seems uncomfortable, and Tintin is surprised to detect a faint blush on the Captain's cheeks.

„What's the matter, Captain?“

„Well...“ He shifts around awkwardly, then gets up, groaning as his old, stiff muscles and bones protest, and Tintin helps him to stand up. Again he looks at Tintin. „Did you sleep well, lad?“

Tintin gives an embarrassed chuckle. „Actually, no. I shall never get drunk again. I feel quite awful, to be honest. My head hurts and I need a shower.“ He wants to fumble open the buttons of his shirt but then notices that his shirt is already open, so he flings it onto the floor. „And I had that weird nightmare. It felt so real, _saperlipopette!_ No more alcohol for me... Now, if you don't mind, Captain...!“ He motions at the shower. „... or do you want to use it first?“

„No, no, it's all right“, Haddock says, and his face looks even more flustered. „You go ahead.“

Bending over the sink, Tintin splashes cold water into his face, then observes himself in the mirror.

He looks like he is sick. Puffy eyes, grayish skin; even his quiff appears limp.

 _Wait a minute...!_ What is this?

A strange red mark on his neck, apparently not a scab or an insect bite. And there is another one just above his clavicle.

Hickeys. Love marks.

Mirrors don't lie.

 

.  
.

.

Mirrors, in fact, don't lie, and Haddock knows he is in trouble. As if his own guilt and shame are not enough – God alone knows they made him cry himself to sleep – now Tintin _knows._

And why does Haddock even now still stare at Tintin's back, at the adorable freckles on his shouders? Truly, he is beyond salvation.

Tintin turns around, a disturbed, confused look on his beautiful face. „What happened?“ he asks. „What happened last night?“

Haddock knows he cannot lie. He has never been able to hide anything from Tintin, much less lie to him.

He feels his knees weaken and steps back as though to evade Tintin's slightly panicked gaze. „I'm sorry“, he blurts out. „I'm so sorry!“

„...You?“ Tintin responds slowly. „It was no dream? … _You_ molested me last night?“

„I'm sorry“, Haddock repeats. „I feel horrible about it, I...“ He wants to explain, to justify; his ego wants to defend itself; but it is impossible. There can be no defense for what he has done.

„ _You molested me last night?_ “ Tintin shouts, his sickly hangover pallor replaced by a fresh blush.

„Yes, I did, and it was wrong...! Will you forgive me?“

„Get out of this room. Please.“

„Tintin, I'm so sorry! I wish I could undo it-“

„ _Get out!_ “

Eyes downcast because he is unable to look at Tintin's face, Haddock slowly walks out of the room.

Behind him the door slams shut, and he hears the clicking of turning keys.

Snowy is standing in front of him, looking at him with reproachful dark eyes.

„Blistering barnacles“, Haddock mutters, „you, too, hate me now, dontcha? Heaven knows I deserve it. I'm beyond salvation.“


	3. Chapter 3

Tintin is not one to hold a grudge. The instant he locks the bathroom door he immediately regrets his words.   
  
But he can't go back to Haddock, not right now – he needs to sort out his thoughts first, get his emotions and that awful hangover under control. As he undresses to take a shower, he tries to recall what exactly has happened, and in which order. Clearly that kiss has not been a dream. There has been touching, too. Tintin remembers warm hands on his torso and butt, caressing him, hesitatingly at first, then more demanding.   
  
He steps into the shower, letting warm water run over his body, slathering liquid soap over his skin only to have it rinsed away immediately by the steaming stream of hot water. He wonders how much of that incident has been his own fault. Has he encouraged the Captain in some way? What has he done and said? He does not remember.  
  
Then he decides it does not matter whose fault it really is. It's probably impossible to determine and he just needs to handle the facts – he is still a little shaken, not just at what has happened, but also at how _naive_ he has apparently been.  
  
He remembers not wanting it. He has resisted the touching, hasn't he? But in his dream he has thought it was not Haddock, but someone else. What if he had known it was the Captain?  
  
Tintin loves Haddock, albeit in a purely platonic way, and has never considered him more than his best friend – the idea of a sexual situation with his friend is strange and foreign, and has never crossed his mind until now.   
  
He finishes shampooing his hair and stands under the shower for another minute or so, then steps outside. All right, so maybe Haddock is attracted to him in _that_ way, or perhaps not and it has simply been an accident between two drunks. How to handle either matter, Tintin has no idea. The shock is fading, being replaced by insecurity.  
  
Quickly he dries every square centimeter of his skin with a big, fluffy towel, looking at himself in the mirror. He is so used to what he sees that at first he does not understand what could be attractive about him. Surely he does not look 'manly' with his skin so smooth and fair, but he is quite strong, with lean muscles. Tintin puts on a bathrobe as he usually does in the morning, opens the window, and leaves the bathroom.  
  
„Captain?“ he asks, knocking at Haddock's bedroom door, „Captain? Are you in there?“ He suddenly feels guilty. With his outburst just before the shower he has rejected Haddock, has reprimanded him angrily, without thinking. Surely it has been hurtful.  
  
„Yes“, is the reply. Slowly Tintin opens the door. Haddock sits on the bed, wearing a dressing gown and not looking at Tintin.   
  
Tintin swallows hard before sitting down on the bed next to him. „I'm sorry, Captain.“  
  
Now Haddock is looking at him, and if he is feeling hurt he is doing a good job at hiding it which would be unusual for someone who is so comfortable with showing his emotions. „What for, lad?“  
  
„I got mad and shouted at you. It wasn't right. I'm sorry.“  
  
Haddock is silent, looking away.  
  
„I guess we're even now, aren't we?“ Tintin says, attempting a light-hearted tone, and even manages an awkward grin.  
  
„Blistering barnacles“, Haddock shouts so suddenly that Tintin is startled, „of course we're not even! What I did is awful and filthy, and the Pope should declare you a saint for even looking at me!“ He buries his face in his hands.  
  
Tintin's immediate reaction is to think 'it's not that bad, Captain, you did not go far, and you stopped!', but he realizes words wouldn't fix anything now, so he says nothing.  
Finally Haddock again looks at him. „Would you accept my apology?“ His voice is low.  
  
„Of course“, Tintin replies. He wants to grab Haddock's hand and hold it, pretending that things between them are fine and normal, but he does not dare. He has too many questions. Is Haddock really attracted to him? Has it been just that one time – or has it been so for a long time? There are too many 'Why?' and 'How?' in his mind. „Let's eat breakfast“, he suggests, knowing it is well past the time Nestor usually serves eggs and pancakes, but they will certainly find something to eat.  
  
.  
.  
.  
  
Haddock is naturally glad to have Tintin's forgiveness. Things will be all right, he is sure. It has merely been a stupid mistake that will never happen again. He will deal with his abnormal desires the same way as usual, never letting them disrupt their life and relationship.   
  
They are not difficult to handle, especially since he knows how innocent and naive Tintin is despite his twenty-one years.   
  
There is no way Tintin could possibly know how much he sometimes messes with Haddock's mind – even right now, wearing that bathrobe and possibly nothing underneath it, smelling fresh and faintly of lavender soap, and his hair is still wet, quiff hanging over his forehead.   
Haddock wonders how Tintin looks naked - the fantasies are always on the back of his mind, but he can deal with them.  
  
The boy would _never_ deliberately try to tease or even seduce him. Heaven forbid!  
  
They are sitting at the breakfast table (Nestor has been ready to prepare a late breakfast, after all), and Tintin reaches for the orange marmalade, spreading it over a pancake. He eats with great appetite despite his hangover, and seems to be just fine. Haddock, however, still feels guilty. The apology will not make his desires disappear – there is probably nothing in the world that can make them disappear.   
  
Eating marmalade pancakes is a messy matter. Using one finger Tintin wipes a bit of marmalade from the corner of his mouth and licks his finger, looking at Haddock.   
  
Haddock catches just one glance, then looks away, focusing on his breakfast.  
  
.  
.  
.  
  
Tintin is desperate to ask questions because a lot of things suddenly make sense to him. There have been several awkward situations over the past years; the incident where Haddock has mistaken him for a champagne bottle being one of the more understandable ones.   
In the Temple of the Sun, Haddock has made quite a show of always looking away when Tintin undressed, and Tintin has thought the Captain was quite prudish, but he has shrugged it off. In the moon rocket, Haddock has given Tintin more than one strange look when Tintin has tested the peculiar W-shaped bunk beds, trying to find a comfortable position lying facedown with his butt sticking up, and joking about the design of those beds. When the Captain has had the injured ankle and needed some help with everyday things such as dressing, he has refused Tintin's assistance and hired a caretaker instead – almost as though he was afraid of having Tintin being too close to him.  
  
In fact, Tintin remembers several instances when he has not fully understood the Captain's behaviour, but he has never given it much thought until now. People are not rational, especially under the influence of alcohol, and he does not need to understand everything about his friend in order to accept and love him unconditionally just the way he is.  
  
Can it be that Captain Haddock has always been attracted to him?  
  
Tintin slowly licks a bit of marmalade from his finger, noting how the Captain quickly looks away as though caught in _flagrante delicto_.


	4. Chapter 4

Things are not the same any more.  
  
It is as though someone has shifted a gear in Tintin's mind, switched it to a new mode of consciousness – he is now, for the first time in his life, acutely aware of being the object of someone's passion.  
  
At first this has made him feel uncomfortable but as the days and weeks pass by he realizes that it puts him in a certain position of power. He now recognizes _that look_ in Haddock's eyes for what it is, and to his great amazement he can easily evoke _that look_ on purpose at almost any time of the day. A seemingly innocent, playful touch here and there. A lingering gaze at a certain moment. Licking spoons and fingers at breakfast just a little longer than necessary. 'Forgetting' to close the bathroom door when taking a shower. Tintin is astonished at the sheer amount of things he discovers that will arouse _that look_ ; almost as astonished as he has been to find out that the Captain is attracted to him. Tintin may be clueless and inexperienced but he is not obtuse.  
  
And he is a fast learner.  
  
To his credit, Haddock is doing wonderfully at not reacting to Tintin's cautious flirtation attempts; perhaps because they are barely discernible as such.  
  
Or are they? Tintin is not sure how far he wants to go. Though male sexuality is certainly no mystery to him he knows that he still lacks the experience to tell what exactly it would take to make the Captain lose his mind. _Not that I'd want to do that; no! I'm just curious, that's all!_  
  
Being desired feels excitingly new and thrilling, and although Tintin does not want to ponder what actual sex would feel like – the mere idea of anal intercourse is intimidating – thoughts of the kiss and the touching occupy his mind over and over again.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
Haddock, of course, cannot ignore Tintin's recent behaviour. The lad is more or less teasing him, every single innocuous flirtation fueling Haddock's fantasies that he has fought so hard to suppress.  
  
And the fact that Haddock has now had a taste of Tintin makes it even harder to forget about the incident.  
  
Thundering typhoons! Does Tintin even have any idea how much he is tormenting the Captain?  
  
They sit on a sofa in front of the television set, watching an Alfred Hitchcock movie, and Tintin has draped a woolen blanket over them both. It is not yet cold enough to use the fireplace here in the living-room of Marlinspike Hall; but it's chilly in those spacious rooms with their high ceilings. The warmth of this extra cover would be more than welcome if it were not for Tintin who is huddled under that blanket right next to Haddock.  
  
It makes the Captain nervous, and even the highly suspenseful movie cannot distract him from the presence of the beautiful boy next to him whose body, radiating warmth, is barely touching Haddock's.  
  
He admires Tintin's profile, notes how the illumination from the television emphasizes the delicateness of his features; and the freckles being almost invisible in the pale light.  
  
Tintin shifts around under the cover, leaning closer to Haddock.  
  
The Captain almost does not dare breathe, as though every single inhalation might betray what precisely he wants to breathe right now. He wants to bury his face in Tintin's nape, his hair, his groin, and inhale Tintin's own scent of adventure and youthful vigour.  
  
Blistering barnacles, that boy is an aphrodisiac!  
  
It is too warm under that blanket; much too warm. But he does not dare remove the cover, lest Tintin see the hot and bothered state Haddock is in.  
  
The Captain has no idea any more what is happening in the movie. All he knows is that Tintin's shoulder and thigh are touching his own – no, pressing against him, actually; and Tintin's head is almost leaning onto Haddock's shoulder.  
  
Confound it! He may regret it if he does it again. But he will regret it even more if he doesn't.  
  
Haddock takes a deep breath, hears a voice in the back of his mind shout, 'no!', but he ignores it, leaning towards Tintin and kissing him straight onto the mouth.  
  
Tintin's lips feel delectably soft and warm, and Haddock pulls away before Tintin can realize what is happening.  
  
There is a moment of silence as they sit there huddled under the blanket, and Haddock realizes it has been a stupid thing to do – a selfish, mindless, dumb thing... _You will never learn, Archie, you foolish bastard!_  
  
He stares at the television screen, trying to hide his nervousness. From the corner of his eye he sees Tintin looking at him.  
  
"I'm sorry", Haddock finally mutters, hoping for forgiveness yet again, and unable to stand the awkward silence.  
  
Tintin's response is as unexpected as it is fierce. He wraps his arms around Haddock's shoulders and kisses him clumsily, not quite finding his mouth, but then their lips meet, and it is Tintin who slips his tongue around the Captain's.  
  
Thundering typhoons!  
  
So Tintin knows what he is doing...!  
  
Haddock embraces him, pulling him halfway onto his lap, and kisses back, tenderly at first, then more hungrily, exploring that warm, wet mouth longer than he has done some weeks ago, until Tintin ends the kiss but makes no attempt to free himself from Haddock's arms around him.  
  
"You ginger devil", Haddock says, "don't do that. You have no idea what you're doing to me."  
  
"What if I do?" Tintin's expression is serious and his hands are lingering on the Captain's chest.  
  
"Don't joke with me!" This can't be true, dear God in Heaven, this cannot be real... Tintin would never...! Would he?  
  
"I'm not joking." Tintin gently pushes him against the sofa like he is afraid Haddock might get up and leave; and he is draping both legs around Haddock's lap, sitting down so he is bound to notice the Captain's bulging erection through both their pants. "Captain... you want to do _things_ with me, right?"  
  
Haddock stares at him, opening his mouth but unable to think clearly for a moment. All he perceives is Tintin so close to him, pressing against his arousal.  
  
"Captain?" Tintin asks. "Please, show me things. What is it that you want to do?" He takes Haddock's hand and places it on his chest. "It's all right. I want this, too. I've gotten so used to the idea that I'm really curious now. You're the only one I can trust enough to be with."  
  
Finally Haddock regains some composure. He lets his hands travel along Tintin's sides, marveling at that slender build with the lean muscles. "You're a virgin, aren't you?"  
  
Tintin nods.  
  
"Relax. Come here." He gently pulls Tintin towards him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued ^_^


	5. Chapter 5

Tintin relishes the thrill of excitement that usually accompanies adventure and he's sure he wants this adventure, too.

He feels the Captain's hands under his shirt; warm, rough and a little unsteady as though Haddock still cannot believe he is now _allowed_ to touch him; and Tintin in turn explores him, reaching under the Captain's pullover that smells of tobacco and past adventures, and feeling not only curious amazement at the amount of wiry hair his hands find there, but also a new, strange sensation of _want_.

The tingly warmth in his abdomen urges him to press himself even closer to Haddock. Still straddling the Captain's lap he grinds himself against him, a low moan escaping his lips.

"Take that off", Haddock mutters, tugging at Tintin's pullover; and Tintin quickly, clumsily, obliges. Haddock is unbuttoning Tintin's plus fours with trembling hands, and kissing his collarbone and neck.

Tintin winces at the tickling, yet teasing sensation of Haddock's beard on his skin. "Captain", he breathes, sitting down on the sofa next to Haddock so he can more easily remove his pants, "I- I want-"

"Yes?" Haddock helps to pull Tintin's plus fours away, flinging them onto the floor; and then he is leaning over Tintin, gently pushing him to lie down on the sofa, looking at him while grabbing Tintin's growing arousal through the reporter's undershorts.

"I don't... want to go all the way", Tintin says, hardly able to contain a moan when Haddock caresses him through his underwear. "Not... ahhh- all the way."

"What d'you mean, lad?" Haddock does not seem disappointed nor incredulous; he is simply asking, looking down at him tenderly while touching him.

Tintin is glad the room is so dimly lit that his blush is invisible. "I, um...", he stutters, then decides there is no way around being blunt. "Don't put it in."

"Aye, _mon cher_." The Captain is smiling, stroking and squeezing Tintin's erection through white undershorts now damp with pre-cum; obviously enjoying to see him sprawled out on the sofa so wantonly. "That's fine. We won't do anything you're not ready for."

Tintin nods, moaning as the Captain rubs and teases him; and those _damn_ underpants are in the way. He pulls them down hastily, eager to get more of Haddock's hand, he wants him, needs him-

"Captain", he pants, reaching down to touch himself because that aching urge won't let him do otherwise, "continue, please, it feels so good!"

Haddock is gazing at Tintin reverently. "You are so beautiful."

"Please, Captain..."

"C'mon, sit here." Haddock grabs Tintin's wrists and pulls him back up so Tintin again sits on the sofa with his feet on the floor; then Haddock kneels in front of the sofa, pushing Tintin's thighs apart. "Relax, _mon amour_ , this will feel good."

Before Tintin realizes what Haddock means, he is already doing it, and it is like nothing Tintin has felt before; the hot wetness of the Captain's mouth taking him in, sucking him; the beard softly scratching and brushing against his balls. Tintin cries out with pleasure, his hips twitching involuntarily as he tries to hold back, he mustn't come yet, not _yet_.

His face feels hot and sweaty, and the pleasure that has started as a tingling is spreading through his entire body. "Ahhh", he sighs, surrendering to the continuing stimulation.

Haddock starts using one hand, holding Tintin's cock tightly while sucking the top, subjecting it to the varying sensation of hot breath and cool air.

Tintin moans, focuses on holding back - he needs to enjoy the intense lust while it lasts – yet he cannot stop his hips from bucking against the Captain, causing him to make a gagging sound.

"Sorry", Tintin pants, and Haddock simply continues, his mouth moving up and down Tintin's cock at a faster pace; and then Tintin knows he cannot stop himself much longer, his body aching for release.

"Captain... wait..."

Haddock keeps going. Tintin hears nothing but wet, sucking sounds and his own laboured breathing.

"I'm gonna come!"

Haddock's response is to suck harder, building up even more tension than Tintin has ever thought possible, and now he has arrived at the point of no return-

"Ah!" Tintin gasps; he feels the spasms causing his thighs to tense up and twitch as he comes; squirting several spurts of cum against the Captain's tongue.

Leaning back, exhausted and empty, he sees Haddock standing up and leaning over him, a slightly smug look on his face. He is smiling at Tintin, and kisses him; and although Tintin's body almost feels too sensitive for any touch right now, he lets his partner's tongue meet his own and marvels at the salty taste in the Captain's mouth, Tintin's own taste. _Did I really... did I really just do that?_

Tintin pulls back from the kiss. "I'm sorry", he says, his fingertips trailing over Haddock's chest.

Haddock grins. "Don't be. That was the point, lad." They gaze into each others' eyes for a moment. "Now, relax. Lie down."

He pushes Tintin down onto the sofa, making him lie on his stomach, and at first Tintin is not sure what is going on. He is tired, his entire naked body moist with sweat.

The sound of a belt and zipper opening reaches Tintin's ears, and with some effort he turns his head around to see Haddock kneeling over him, and then Haddock's hands are all over Tintin's back, gently massaging him, caressing and squeezing his butt. They feel so good, those hands – the hands of not just an old sea lion, but one who knows what he is doing.

Tintin relaxes under the calming, exploring touch, his desire starting to return.

Suddenly there is something solid and warm poking him, and Tintin is instantly alert. _Wait a minute, wait-!_

Haddock is lowering himself onto Tintin with a low grunt, and Tintin feels the Captain's erection nudging against his thighs and butt.

Panic rushes through him as he finds himself stuck between Haddock and the sofa, yet he doesn't believe, refuses to believe Haddock would hurt him, not keep his promise – but then, _what on earth is he doing?_ "Captain?" Tintin asks. "Captain!..."

"Hmh?" Haddock's mouth brushes against Tintin's ear, sending a shiver of pleasure through him.

But the fear wins this time, and Tintin's body is tensing. "Don't", he begs. "You promised! … Don't put it in!"

"Ah, Tintin", the Captain whispers, "of course not. Trust me. I'm not putting anything into you. Just relax."

Thus reassured Tintin finds it a little easier to relax, but the tension is not gone yet. He holds his breath as Haddock wedges a hand between Tintin's thighs. "Open your legs a little."

Trying to ignore the doubt, Tintin obeys, and there it is again, the Captain's hard cock, between his thighs. _No_ , a voice at the back of Tintin's mind shouts, _no! no! no-!_ But he tells himself he must trust him as he has always done, there will be no penetration – there _cannot_ be any, he is not ready, absolutely not ready...!

"Close your legs", Haddock whispers, his breath teasing Tintin's ear, an area more sensitive than he has anticipated. Tintin does as he says, and feels the erection now wedged firmly between his thighs; and realization and relief dawn upon him at the same time.

The Captain starts to move, his pelvis and stomach touching down upon Tintin's backside as he keeps his cock pressed between Tintin's thighs.

 _Wow._ He has not thought of such a thing before. This is fine – exciting, actually: he is letting the Captain have his way with him, without the actual sex that is still scared of, and it feels good.

Tintin relaxes, moaning in encouragement, making sure his thighs stay firmly together. He listens to Haddock's heavy breathing, the occasional guttural groan, and enjoys the strangely thrilling thought that it's _him_ who has gotten Haddock into this state; that the Captain is positively _crazy_ about him; and it is a deliciously powerful sensation _._

It does not take long until Haddock reaches climax; he pulls out from between Tintin's thighs, eagerly pressing his cock against Tintin's buttocks, and with a deep grunt, he comes. Tintin feels a spurt of cum shooting up his spine; another, smaller squirt landing on his ass and the last one on the small of his back.

The Captain is breathing heavily and Tintin turns his head, looking at Haddock who is admiring his work for a moment. Apparently not wanting to collapse atop Tintin he weakly pushes Tintin's legs out of the way and lets himself fall back onto the sofa, sitting down near Tintin's feet, exhausted and spent.

Tintin suddenly realizes he can't turn onto his back without spreading cum all over the sofa (and what, for Heaven's sake, would Nestor think about _that_?), so he lies down on his stomach with his head resting on the Captain's lad, tired but happy and sated.

"You gonna clean up that mess you made?" Tintin asks him with a grin. "Or else I'll gonna have to stay here forever."

Haddock caresses Tintin's hair and cheek. "Sounds like a good idea, lad."

.

.

.

Captain Haddock is utterly exhausted. Long gone are the times when he has been a young man like Tintin, able to recover quickly and ready to go again just minutes later (if he were younger, he would probably squirt his sperm onto Tintin again, right now, as a sort of primitive property-marking ritual); but he is contented, wonderfully satisfied. This is more, _much_ more than he has ever hoped for, and it does not matter in the slightest that Tintin is not ready for actual sex.

Still there is that nagging doubt in the back of his mind that maybe Tintin does not want more than this, _ever_ ; that perhaps this has been just an one-time adventure for the boy. After all, adventure is what he lives for.

Haddock sighs.

He strokes Tintin's ginger hair, curiously noting that his quiff looks as tidy as ever.

 

**\- the end**


End file.
